The Heterodoxy In The Reception
by Hermytwin027
Summary: Temperance Brennan stood there opposite Booth, at the altar, and asked, "What do we do now?" Well, here's your answer, mrs bone lady. A take on what may or may not have happened following the S2 finale. non Wedding reception juicy goodness inside!


**A/N:- This is set following the S2 finale. I always thought that the (non)wedding reception would've been good to see… but I guess that they writers must have figured that since Ange and Hodgins had done a runner, the group dimension would be flattened somewhat. I s'pose that for the show itself, that'd be true in many ways :/ Oh, & also, they obviously wanted to end on that whole iconic B/B at the alter, thing. This is set maybe an hour or two after we left them standing there. So, Brennan? Listen up… Here's what you do next!**

**Disclaimer:- As ever, I don't own these wonderful people. If I did by some chance happen to be Mr Hanson, then don't you think this scenario would at the very least be added to the DVD as a deleted scene?**

"Right sweetheart, we're gonna need to ask you a favour."

Temperance glanced behind her, to where the drummer had sidled up, feeling mildly annoyed at the idea of anyone calling her 'sweetheart'. He was approximately her own height – five-eight or nine-ish, but with the heels she currently wore, Tempe found herself towering a fair few inches over the man.

_Mid fifties to sixties, _she surmised, taking in his well-worn facial features and greying hair. She knew for a fact that he'd been playing in this band for the best part of forty years.

"Did you know that the continual impact, muscular contraction and gravitational force caused by the repetitive motion of most drummers, causes them to be substantially more susceptible to developing an over-load of tissues, particularly of and around the tendon, therefore resulting in inflammation in the form of Tendonosis?"

Tempe paused for a breath, not noticing the stunned expression on the man's face.

"Although inflammation is the body's own way of healing, it can lead to altered motion, swelling, and pain, occasionally escalating to a chronic degree. Also, it is logical to assume that due to the probable frequency of traumatic injury to both the interphalangeal and metacarpal-phalangeal joints…"

"Brennan, isn't it?"

Trailing off, Tempe turned her attention to this second man, situated several feet away, over by the edge of the stage. She thought upon this as a rather rude introductive technique. Her eyes widened momentarily, and her gaze flickered between the two men.

"Um, yes, I am Dr. Brennan."

Before she could even manage to presume where this conversation might be leading, the second man spoke again, his eyes obscured by dark sunglasses.

"Angie told me you got tongue enough for ten rows o' teeth. I ain't been believin' her 'till right now."

Tempe frowned, noticing the slight chuckle that followed his words. She was sorely tempted to call him up on it, but a rare instance of social common sense took place, and she decided that it might not be such a wise idea. He _was_ paying for the whole event, after all.

It didn't stop her from asking what the hell he was talking about though.

"Erm, I don't know what that means…"

"Don't know what what means, Bones?"

All of a sudden, Booth's jovial tones cutting through her thought process. Instantly, the weight and heat of Booth's arm, being slung across her shoulders. He'd discarded his formal jacket shortly after arriving earlier, and had rolled up his shirtsleeves since: Well, if the delicious skin-to-skin contact from his forearm was any indication.

"Hey, do you mind putting these in your bag for me?" Booth added, almost as an afterthought, holding up a pair of cufflinks. "Hold on to 'em till later?"

Deflating slightly under Booth's gaze, Tempe did no more than roll her eyes at him, and shove her tiny clutch bag in his direction.

_Might as well make himself useful._

"I was just about to ask a favour of your lovely lady, here." The drummer spoke up.

They both appeared to ignore him, as Tempe watched Booth hesitate with her bag, before waving it vaguely back in her direction.

"Booth, will you just put them in the bag!"

Momentarily, they turned in unison to the men, catching them off guard, as they said,

"We're not together," simultaneously. It sounded as though they had uttered the self same words many, many times before, and they turned their attention immediately back to each other.

"Don't tell me you've never seen fastening like that before?"

Booth let out an exasperated sigh. Anybody else would've been insulted.

"Of course I have. I just can't go in a lady's bag. It's, you know… uh, private."

Tempe raised her eyebrows, cocking her head slightly to the side to look at him in that same way she did with the bones in her lab.

"And yet the entire contents of both my office and flat have been rifled through a hundred times over by you." Spoken slowly, missing the relevance of such a simple rule of etiquette, by a long mile.

"Bones, that's not the point. Just… here, you do it." He said finally, forcing both the bag, and cufflinks firmly into Tempe's hands.

"You folks sure that…" the drummer began, before he was cut off unceremoniously by the pair of them.

"Yes!"

Tempe threw the cufflinks in and closed her bag with a distinct snapping sound.

"It's ok, mate; I'll handle this," the second man assured his bandmate, and the other man walked away.

"I'd be right in guessing you're Booth, then?"

_So much insight, from a man wittering on about teeth and lots of tongues_, Tempe mused.

Booth wore a momentary look of surprise, before withdrawing his right arm from around Tempe's shoulder in order to shake the man's hand.

She fought to stop herself from shivering at the loss of contact, even though the room was plenty warm.

"Yeah, that's right. Seeley Booth." He stated as they shook. "You're Angela's father."

"That I am, son. That I am."

"I um," Booth glanced across at Tempe, not entirely sure how much information he was supposed to disclose regarding Angela and Hodgins' swift exit, that afternoon. "I didn't realise your band was playing here this evening. You said you had a show to get to?"

Angela's father chuckled deeply in response and removed his sunglasses.

"This might not be my first rodeo, but there sure as hell wasn't any way I was gonna miss my Angie's wedding day."

_Rodeo? What rodeo?_

"I'm sorry, but I don't…" Tempe started to say.

Booth was in there, grinning, and quick as a shot,

"Get it? Yeah, just means he's done a lot of shows."

There the chuckle was again. Laughter emanating from the older man; evident most noticeably in the way his ageing eyes crinkled with amusement, causing easy crows feet to form as though they'd always belonged there.

"Angie was right, you two really are quite a pair."

Two sets of eyes narrowed at him and he quickly – _and wisely_, Tempe thought – changed the subject.

"Okay, okay. I've said enough." He put his shades back on. "Right, here's what my buddy here was gonna ask you."

The same two pairs of eyes glanced ominously over at each other. If Angela inherited her mischievous streak from her father in any way at all, then goodness knew what he was about to request of them. At least Tempe was allowed to shout at her friend. Friend's fathers however… well, even she knew that that would be out of line.

"What?" Booth asked, trepidation evident in his tone.

The chuckle; ever present.

"Nothing too scary, trust me."

Two pairs of raised eyebrows.

"If you ask me, you two need to chill out some. You been workin' with suspects too long."

Booth opened his mouth to say something that was bound to be contradictory, but the older man cut him off before he could speak,

"No need to say it. None of my business, I know. Right then, seeing as my princess has taken off early on her honeymoon… or whatever the hell we're meant to call it… us old folks need a hand in getting the party started."

_Me? Getting a party going? Ha! Well Angela obviously left out some crucial facts about _me_ then_.

"Um, not to appear rude or anything," Tempe said, glancing uncertainly between the crowds of wedding guests, Booth, and Angela's dad, "but, I really don't think you need me for that. Booth, on the other hand, has excellent social skills, and…"

"Oh no." Booth interrupted. "No way Bones. If I'm going down, then you're coming with me."

He reached his arm back out towards her, this time snaking it deftly around her waist, and pulling her to stand flush against his side. Just to prove his point, of course.

"Besides," he continued, "you must have far more of an idea of who the most of these people are. Can't argue with logic, Bones."

Finished with a winning smile. The charm smile.

Whether or not Booth knew how much those smiles affected her, Tempe wasn't sure. She _did_ know though, that any protesting she did from that point on would merely be for the sake of saving face. Not that she was at all happier with the idea that she could be in charge of getting any party started.

"Oh no, nothing like that." Angela's dad claimed. "I'm not expecting you folks to go round making small talk with people who aren't your responsibility. Wouldn't wish that on anyone."

_Well there's something!_ Tempe thought, with some modicum of relief.

Then came the last thing she'd been expecting to be asked.

"No, I just need someone to get the dancing going. You know, just some first people on the dance floor, otherwise this night might never kick off."

He must have been oblivious to the horrified look on Tempe's face, because he continued on as though she may in some way be supporting the idea of making an absolute fool of herself in front of a couple of hundred people.

"Thought that seeing as you two are the Best Man and Chief Bridesmaid, then it wouldn't be too much to ask. You know… in lieu of speeches and whatnot?"

Even Booth gulped audibly at the prospect of attempting to dance in front of all these people. Never one to admit defeat though, he quickly regained his composure and squeezed Bones' waist reassuringly.

"Yeah, sure man. Course we will."

Finally he glanced down and saw that now-permanent horror-struck expression on Tempe's face.

"Just, erm… give us a minute or two will ya?" He requested of the older man, whom nodded in response.

Booth guided Tempe away from the stage, thinking that although this was far from ideal, at least it was an excuse to dance with her.

She still wore that same expression.

What worried Booth more was the fact that she hadn't uttered a single word in several minutes. This, from the woman whom usually wouldn't shut up long enough for him to take a phone call. He decided humour would be his best tactic.

Turning her, so that they stood face-to-face, he spoke, his voice deliberately light and airy,

"Come on Bones, you've put up with my dancing before. I didn't stand on your feet too many times then did I?"

Raised eyebrows. An encouraging smile.

Tempe couldn't help but feel as though this was school all over again. Spring Fling, about to go horrendously wrong for her. The same, because despite the encouraging expressions on the faces of her peers, she knew that just beneath the surface, they thought she was too quiet, too studious, too boring. And though logically, she was well aware of her achievements and personal development during the thirteen years since then, somehow it felt no different.

"Stop patronizing me, Booth." She snapped, causing his eyebrows to shoot up further into his hairline.

In another situation, and if she hadn't been so annoyed, Tempe may have paused long enough to laugh at such an expression. As it was, she nodded towards Angela's dad, who was waiting for the go-ahead from them, grabbed Booth's hand, and more or less dragged him onto the middle of the dance floor.

"Let's just get this over and done with." She muttered, as the band struck up a surprisingly mellow tune.

**A/N:- There's more of this story to come, so reviews would be greatly appreciated as they'll give me indication of whether or not anyone actually wants to hear more…**

**As always, thanks for taking the time to read :)**


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